


Jar of Hearts

by SouthernKittyGal



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: I wouldn't call this rape, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Meaning Stanley is the one with six fingers, Nuttersincorporated, Sex, This story was majorly helped, and Stanford is our wonderful moron, and written, authorStanley, bless, by, created, just depressing sex?, lets break everyone's hearts, like before the names switched, none other than, seeeeexxxxxxxxxxx, small bits of author Stanley maybe, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernKittyGal/pseuds/SouthernKittyGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford likes Fids. Fids likes Stanford. The shapeshifter realizes this with sick glee and does his best to use it to his advantage. Manipulation, broken hearts everywhere, prepare yourself it's a wild and amazing ride ahead of us. Huge shoutout and hug to Nuttersincorporated for working with me on this idea!!<br/>This story uses the classic Mystery Trio names before the name swap was revealed so Stanley is the author of the journals and Stanford is his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jar of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nuttersincorporated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuttersincorporated/gifts).



Experiment 210 opened an eye when lights flashed on around him. Having been hanging upside down from the top of his cage, he dropped to the ground, the familiar chatter of his caretakers approaching.

“...No, no, it doesn’t work that way, Stanford. There’s a high level of sciences involved, in fact, one of the most known laws of physics proves you wrong in that it states energy can be neither-.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, nerd. I’m just _saying_ , he couldn’t have been just born with the universe, he had to be created somehow, and if we can figure out how, then we can take him down!”

“Guys, focus. We’re around questionable company,” Lowly, the shifter heard Stanley mutter as the trio came into view, “Watch your words.”

Fiddleford replied with the smallest of nods, his blue eyes brightening as he saw his favorite experiment waiting for them, his gloved hands on the metal bars that covered the opening of his ‘cage.’

It wasn’t exactly a cage. The trio had somehow managed to put up large barred gates in the cave-like parts of the bunker, separating experiments from one another yet still giving them their own room and space to do as they pleased.

The shapeshifter typically prefered to hang by the entryway, mostly because his hearing wasn’t 100% and he liked to know when someone was near.

Stanley watched him with wary eyes as he pulled the box of food he was carting in front of him. As he cracked open multiple cans of beans and readied some specifically chosen foods, Fiddleford struck up a conversation about how he’d been doing, if there was anything he wanted or needed. Had anything changed with him, had he developed any new cravings, or had any of his natural desires dissipated?

Fiddleford was his most proud work. As soon as the scientist had caught onto his interest in books, he’d began secretly feeding him only the best novels in every topic you could possibly imagine, from classic poetry to complex physics. He’d taken to the shifter, bonding with him over the sharing of information and books, and having little to no distrust towards him. The dangerous thing was that the experiment knew this fully and had begun using it as one of his highest advantages.

“No, my dear Fiddleford, I’ve not changed since you were last here yesterday night. Though, I would be grateful if you would bring me something to entertain myself with in between your visits. Perhaps a game of some sort?” He smiled at the other, well aware he’d never bring him anything escape-worthy, but something entertaining to him would be appreciated anyway.

“Hmmm… maybe a pack of cards...?” The question hung in the air, Stanley only rolling his eyes when Fiddleford glanced at him for an answer. Taking that to mean he wouldn’t forbid it, Fiddleford went on, “I could teach you how to play solitaire.”

“That would be most kind of you,” He replied with a wry smile, though it hardly lasted when Stanford stepped forward, eyes twinkling with bemusement.

“Hey, hey. Turn into someone else.”

210 hesitated only slightly before deciding to please the larger man, morphing his appearance into a young boy with perfect strawberry blond hair and a dazzling grin.

Stanford saw him as a pet. He didn’t try to hide this in the least. While it had at first been fairly offensive to the experiment, he soon found himself following along with Stanford’s line of thought. He acted as the pet he imagined him to be, in turn hoping it’d benefit him someday soon, when the time came for him to leave this wretched cage.

The only problem was that, while he behaved how Stan wished, it was also extremely degrading.

It took a lot of effort to hide his annoyance. It made it hard to keep his confident air of intelligence around Fiddleford when both he and Stanford visited him together.

“Stan, leave him alone. He’s just humoring you with this whole charade.”

As if Stanford wasn’t bad enough…

“Stanley, I’m offended. Sincerely, I am. Is it so unfathomable of me to do as your dear brother requests?” While contempt made his gut turn, he managed to knit his bushy eyebrows together and appear genuinely hurt. “So rare that I do get company, and it’s rather lonely being stuck in here all day… I really do just wish to delight in your time here.”

Pushing his large glasses up the bridge of his nose, he scowled at the shapeshifter. “The only thing you ‘wish to delight in’ is the idea of escaping, even if it means other people get hurt in the process.”

Fiddleford glanced between the two, 210’s eyes hardening slightly as Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. _Here we go again_.

Stanford really didn’t understand his brother’s antagonistic feelings towards the shapeshifter. It was funny watching the creature change and impersonate people and animals. It was like having the ultimate pet he’d always wanted as a child. The shapeshifter was a bit like a mix between a dog and a parrot. It could do tricks and copy people’s voices perfectly. It wasn’t like he was dangerous to them, especially since he was locked up all the time.

“Stanley Pines, I would never, _ever_ , wish to harm anyone,” The shapeshifter said with big innocent hurt eyes, still in the form of a young man, “As for escaping, look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t entertain the idea had _you_ been the one stuffed into a single cage all your life and often left alone. My boy, this could fully well qualify as animal cruelty! I know my rights!”

Stanley glanced sideways at Fiddleford, who seemed to shrink in on himself faintly. His disapproval only grew. He knew he’d been sneaking the shifter books, but he was beginning to wonder exactly if that should go on anymore, considering just how educated the experiment appeared to be.

Recentering his attention, he glared at the shapeshifter, “If you just want to please us, why don’t you take your own form for once?” he asked, “Why do you always look human unless Stanford asks you to turn into a cute animal? Don’t you look _innocent_ enough in your true form?”

“I feel more human when I look human. You three are the only intelligent beings I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Why wouldn’t I choose to look human?” He asked then changed into his true form, “But if you want me to look like this then I will. Why do you feel more comfortable when I look less human?”

Stanley didn’t answer; he just glared at the shapeshifter, opened a small hatch in the door of his cage and pushed his food through. The shifter took his food with a light sigh, resting back against the small bed set up for him, since he so much prefered human forms.

Stanford pulled a list out from his pocket, grinning, “I been trying to think of some good names for him, I personally think-”

“He’s not a pet, Stanford.” Stanley glanced to the grinning man and Stanford gave a faint pout.

“Well… Yeah, I know, but I still think he should have a better name than just “Experiment 210.” I really like Cedric, think it fits his sort of bookworm personality.”

Stanley shook his head, “No. Naming him will let you grow too personally attached and that is the last thing we need.”

As the two bickered, “Cedric” noticed Fiddleford watching Stanford with a fond smile at his antics. The shifter hummed and moved across his cage to stand at the bars, the two twins hardly noticing as he motioned Fiddleford forward. The scientist seemed only a tinge wary, but approached. The shifter leaned against the bars, “Fiddleford, my boy… I’ve recently noticed a recent fondness, attraction, in the way you look at Stanford.”

Fiddleford blinked, the words taking a second to settle, and then felt his cheeks blossom a dark shade of pink. “Wh- _What?_ N-No, of course not, what would even give you that idea? He’s just… Just my friend.” Despite his words he kept his voice low, not wanting Stanford to hear him.

210 gave him a disbelieving look, “I beg to differ. You stare at him and he’s too dull-headed to notice.” As the smaller man continued flushing further, he continued, “You do know how lonely I often am down here. I surely wouldn’t mind the, ah, _company_ if you ever wished for me to shift into Stanford for you…” He gave a bit of a sly smile.

Fiddleford shrunk back a step, and the shifter looked thoroughly amused at his obvious flustration. Fiddleford tried to decline politely, “N-No thank you, that’s… I-I’m not interested in your offer…” He noticed Stanley and Stanford starting to move on, the latter calling for him. Fiddleford took a step back, ready to go and gave the shifter a weak glare, “Don’t… Say any of this nonsense to Stanford.” He turned and left briskly.

Watching him go with a snort, the experiment tried to think of how he could use this to his advantage, and returned to his orange juice and beans.

 

They came down again later, 210 waking up at the sound of Stanford’s noisy voice. He shifted with a light sigh, looking up as they came to his cage. Stan called, “Heya, Cedric!”

“Stanley said not to name him,” Fiddleford chided while the other man only shrugged.

The experiment stretched and sat up, looking at them both and humming a moment, “I’d love to have a name. Cedric isn’t half bad.” He gave a light smile.

Stanford brightened like a kid on christmas and elbowed Fiddleford playfully, though the smaller man winced at the action and gave a meek smile. “See! I told ya he’d like it!”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes, “You’re a moron.”  
Before the larger man could respond, Cedric changed forms to look and speak like Stanford, “Haha, yeah, but I’m _your_ moron, nerd.”

Fiddleford blushed and gave the shifter a half-hearted glare as the real Stanford just laughed, “That’s awesome, you know you can really pull that stuff off. Maybe if Stanley ever gets used to ya we could be triplets!” He chuckled to himself, digging through the box they always brought with to find his food.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful, Stanford.” And as the other’s back was turned he gave Fiddleford a sly smile, “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Fiddleford glowered weakly.

Cedric winked, still grinning Stanford’s grin.

The smaller man’s ears burned red as Stanford dumped the shifter’s food onto a paper plate and served it up to him, saying, “Hey, hey, become an animal.”

The shifter rose a brow at the demand and only did as told, becoming one of the creatures he’d seen in only books. The yellow labrador barked and wagged his tail. Stanford beamed in awe and delight, leaning forward to like Cedric sniff his hand before he started petting him through the bars. Fiddleford watched, childing in a low mutter, “You’re not supposed to reach in there…”

Stanford rolled his eyes, “Please, I know you go in there to talk nerd with him all the time.” Cedric leaned into Stanford’s hand and Fiddleford didn’t remark, only frowning lightly at having been found out at some point. Stan pulled his hand back, saying with bright eyes, “Can you turn into an elephant?”

The labrador shook his head, not knowing of that animal and Stanford hummed, “Okay, fine, then how about people?”

Cedric shifted to look like Stanley, wagging a finger to the two as he mimicked the other, “Don’t talk to the shapeshifter, he’s a bad influence. Nyeh, nyeh, nyeh. Nag, nag, nag.”

Stanford burst out laughing, holding his hand up for a high five (or six) and their palms slapping together. 210 gave a fond smile as the other chuckled, and then hummed, thinking of what else the creature could turn into.

“Be Fiddleford.”

Said man frowned, watching as the experiment morphed itself to Stan’s wishes, twiddling his fingers and rubbing the tip of his shoe in the dirt as he looked down shyly. “I-I don’t really like violence, much… Or fighting…”

Stanford chuckled a little, teasing, “Aw. How cute.”

Fiddleford McGucket didn’t find it cute. He glared off to the side, brows knit and hating how small and weedy and just… absolutely _weak_ he looked compared to Stanford.

As the experiment continued to mock and behave as he might, Fiddleford took the handle of the wagon, dragging it off to go continue feeding the other experiments and creatures the bunker harbored.

He knew he was weak.

He knew he wasn’t built for fighting, or running, or any athletics, quite frankly.

Stanford was not weak, he was strong. He was _brave_. He would take on anything, no matter how life threatening, and not even hesitate.

Usually it played out as Stanford taking on what Gravity Falls threw at him while Fiddleford had to run, or got captured, or even was attempted to be eaten alive while stuck _underground_. All three issues had occurred, each in it’s own different situation.

He sighed, already despising his lack of physical ability and courage. It just hurt to have it rubbed in his face, even if it was unintentional.

He could hear Stanford and “Cedric,” the Pines man’s booming voice and laughter carrying across the more or less empty and vast bunker.

By the time the other had joined him, he’d finished their tasks and was ready to leave. Stanford was still smiling from the visit with the shapeshifter as they left the bunker.

 

210 jumped at a loud slamming noise, some creatures calling out and screeching as they were startled awake. The lights remained off and the experiment held his breath.

He strained to listen, hearing low stumbles and feet dragging against the dirt. His large, bulbous red eyes studied the darkness outside his cage, and he jumped back when Stanford Pines appeared in his view, hands wrapped around the bars and a six pack of beer hanging from his fingers. “Stanford!” He shifted into his typical bean man form, “My goodness, don’t be so quick like that!”

Stanford’s eyes seemed dark and dazed, peering in at the creature in it’s cage until he began to shift his feet, his only sign of awkward nervousness.

“B… Be Fiddleshticks…” He leaned against the bars as he cracked open a beer with a pop and hiss. Cedric quickly realized what a “Fiddlesticks” was and watched Stan warily as he did as asked, shifting to look like Fiddleford. He was quiet, watching with silent curiosity as Stanford groaned in primal need at sight of the other.

He moved a hand down to palm at his jeans, dropping his six pack down to the ground and muttering under his breath incoherently. “t-Talk to me… Fids…”

Cedric watched him, the human evidently drunk beyond coherent thought and silently intrigued at he touched himself where most humans did not. He weighed the command in his mind, but slowly complied, unsure what would happen. “Stanford…”

Stan breathed out a husky sound, closing his eyes and resting his head against the cage. It clicked a bit late in the experiment’s mind what Stanford was doing and he hardly had the shame to blush. Stanford had sneaked him his fair share of human mating guides until the other trio members found him out and took all the naughty magazines away.

So now the question was, did he want to allow this to continue? He was fairly repulsed at the idea of… doing any sort of mating ritual thing with a human, but he figured it wasn’t really too odd. For all he knew, he was the only thing of his kind, so mating in other ways beside his true form couldn’t be all odd, right?

A low growl brought him out of his reverie, so he spoke again, voice a bit whiny, “Stanford~.”

“Oh god,” Muttered the other, starting to fumble with his pants and push them down. He commanded softly, “t-Touch me…”

Raising a brow, the shapeshifter moved forward, reluctantly touching the semi-hard length between his caretaker’s legs. The response was an immediate, sighed out groan and hips rolling forward. Stanford Pines, drunk and lusting, was losing his mind to a monster who simply delighted in how Stanford fell into the palm of his hand - both literally and figuratively.

An idea flitted through Cedric’s mind, connecting all the dots together in the plan forming in his malicious mind. A sick smile spread over his soft lips, stretching it to an almost disturbing degree.

He had finally found his ticket out of this cage.

It would take time and patience, granted, but Cedric had already spent so long in the cage that this was nothing new. He could wait. The sweet freedom he’d get in the end would be his reward.

He slowly moved his hand along Stanford, watching his body press flush against the bars. He dropped his head to rest between the bars, and Cedric did the same, lightly pressing their foreheads together. He stroked Stanford, glancing down to make sure he was doing it right. Stan breathed, “ _Fids_ … f… ah…”

Cedric relaxed, tightening his grip some and starting to more steadily pump Stanford’s swelling member. Arms slipped through the bars and wrapped around his waist, hugging him as close as he could, “Please… s-Speak to me…”

“Oh, Stanford… I love how you hold me…” Mentally, Cedric rolled his eyes to himself, but he’d have to get used to playing the part.

Stanford bucked his hips, groaning deep in his throat and murmuring, “You touch me so good…”

“I love touching you,” returned the other. Stanford muttered for him to move faster and he complied, jerking his hand along him and shivering a little at the feeling of big hands sliding up and down his back tenderly. He was so unaccustomed to touch, it did feel a bit nice, if not somewhat odd and strange; new.

Lips muttered near his ear, sweet nothings not really meant for him, and Cedric hardly cared to listen. His small fingers dragged along the other’s length and Stanford huffed out another low sound. Watching the human was interesting in itself, how easily pleasured he was at a simple touch was even more so. He curiously ran his hand over the tip, figuring it to be extra sensitive when Stan bucked his hips. He stroked him, thumb rubbing down hard against the head and Stan rocked into his hand.

Stanford was panting, starting to steadily rock his hips forward with need as his stomach tightened pleasantly. Within moments, he rumbled out a last, roar of a groan as his peak rolled over him in a wave, muttering Fiddleford’s name under his breath.

As he flopped over with his back against the bars and sunk down to the ground, he let his mind float in a haze of alcohol and pleasured bliss.

Experiment 210 curiously sniffed the milky liquid on his hand and snaked out a tongue to taste it before gagging and flailing his hand off to the side to get it off. Disgusting.

He regarded Stanford a moment, breathing heavily and nearing sleep, even as he lifted his beer to take a long drink.

Kneeling to his knees, Cedric reached through the bars to set his hands on Stan’s shoulders. His wicked smile returned and he leaned forward, speaking in his own voice, not Fiddleford’s. “That was certainly fun, Stanford… I wonder, though… What would the real Fiddleford think if he knew what you were doing…?”

Stanford choked on his drink.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter might not be out for a while since I currently am without a computer, so it's hard to type up chapters and post them. But I will work on this, if my name isn't what my name is! (Again, huge shout out to Nuttersincorporated and endless thanks to her!)  
> The young boy the shifter turned into was Thomas Sanders... A charming viner guy, check him out, he's a cool dude.  
> Comments welcome please!


End file.
